Filler chapters are filler. But they have to happen :) We'll get onto the good stuff, asap, I promise. Thanks again for all the support. It really means the world to me to know that there are people that like this. You guys are fantastic, and it's been so fun getting to know a bunch of you! Enjoy!
Ever since their relationship had begun, there had been a silent yet understood 'no gift' policy in place. Though Hawke had assured the mage on many occasions that his money was to be shared equally with his lover, Anders wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. He felt bad enough living off of the warrior, and he certainly wasn't going to dip into his money to buy him a gift. Archer had understood that and didn't press on the matter. He didn't need gifts, but he did want the other man to realize that the money was there if he needed it. He did, however, often break policy and get a little something for the mage. Guard Captain Mittens and the occasional restocking of the clinic were among the gifts, but he tried to do nothing extravagant. The last thing he'd want is for the gift to be overlooked completely, bringing about nothing but a sea or anger and resentment. But Hawke had decided that this was an occasion that he was allowed to do what he wanted to do with his own coin. Anniversary aside, their setting warranted the item in the package, and it was for everyone's good that it be received.
Frowning, Anders took the package from the other man and weighed it in his hands. It was far heavier than he'd expected, and for whatever reason, that seemed to make the feeling he had worse. There was absolutely nothing he could give his lover in return. Sure, there was sex, but that's hardly a gift when it's something you have on such a regular basis. If their roles were reversed and Anders was the one with the money, he could easily imagine Archer making him a macaroni painting of the two of them or something else just as ridiculous. But Anders couldn't even do anything as simple and meaningful as that. For three long weeks before their journey back into the Deep Roads, the mage had spent his nights attempting to put quill to parchment to express how much the warrior meant to him. He wanted so badly to utilize his passion he put forth into his manifesto and let Hawke know that he was the sole reason for his life. But the words weren't coming; there was an internal battle of his own thoughts and Justice's rolled into one, fighting over what could be said and if it should be said at all. And by the time he'd managed a paragraph, they were off on one quest and then immediately off to Orlais. So here he stood in front of his giddy lover, package in hand and nothing in the world to give.
"You could open it if you want," Hawke said, anticipation causing his voice to go higher.
"Archer, I appreciate this, but I-"
"Forget that it's a gift. You need this. Think of it as nothing more than me offering you food or drink or a place to stay."
"I don't want you to have to take care of me!" Anders nearly shouted, his hands shaking. He felt completely hopeless, useless. "I can't even offer you anything in return."
The warrior frowned. "You are my partner, and I never imagined having such a wonderful gift in my life. The only thing I ask is that you just accept this, Anders. For once, accept a gift gracefully and know I don't want anything but you in return."
The mage sighed as the words his lover spoke calmed him. It was something he'd certainly need to work on, but it wasn't going to be easy. Though perhaps if it was another kitten… Carefully, Anders unwrapped the packaging and let it fall to the ground. His lips formed the faintest of smiles as he peered down at what lay in his hands – black, gold, and feathers.
"Do you like it?"
Anders held onto the pauldrons in his outstretched hands letting the rest of the coat drape down in front of him. He took in the sight of the garment, marveling at how similar it looked to the robes he always wore, but a few subtle changes and new color pallet made it look like something a man from Hightown would wear. Try as he might, he would never again be just the Ferelden mage who ran the free clinic in Darktown – the one who never bathed or replaced the broken straps on his worn teal robe.
"It's beautiful, Love. So…dark."
"Yes, just a bit," Hawke said as he took it from his lover, turning it and holding it up against him. "But I wanted the raven feathers, and that wouldn't have gone as nicely with teal as your old grey feathers do. I love the gold though, don't you? It brings out your eyes."
The mage looked down at it and smiled, and he brought a hand up to run through the feathers. "I thought ravens were like crows – a sign of death."
"For someone who wears a half dozen birds on him daily, you don't know much about them, do you? When I was having a reading lesson with Fenris, I stumbled upon a passage about ravens and their symbolism. They don't represent a bad omen at all. Quite the opposite, I'd say."
Anders stepped back and started taking off his clothing until he was down to his undershirt and smalls. Once he'd found the new trousers and put them on, Hawke helped him into the coat and started fixing the buckles and straps.
"They're incredibly intelligent, and they're keepers of ancient wisdom. Just like you and all the research you've done for your manifesto. And not only that, they're also symbols of magic and humanitarianism. I honestly can't think of an animal that better represents you."
"Do tell me I'm at least more attractive than a raven," Anders insisted as he pulled his right boot back on.
"You have the most beautiful beak I've ever seen," the warrior said with a smile, leaning in to kiss the tip of his lover's nose. The blonde embraced him, now completely unable to be anything but thrilled about the gift. The fit was utterly perfect, and it lacked the interesting smell that the other one had accumulated over the years.
"I love it. Thank you so much."
Hawke wrapped his arms tightly against his lover and kissed the crook of his neck, feathers tickling under his nose. He trailed his kisses upwards until he found the sensitive spot just behind his ear, eliciting a moan from the mage. Anders pulled back to look at the other man briefly, and then he quickly closed the gap between them, lips on lips and tongues fighting for dominance. Hawke won, as he always did, completely consuming the other man. His hands were flying, gripping onto the straps that had just fallen into place, desperate to get them undone so he could slide the robes off of his lover's shoulders.
For the briefest of moments, Anders allowed it. The pauldrons slipped down, his shirt was raised up, but he pushed back and caught the other man's hands. Hawke's eyes darted up to meet those of his lover, a wave of confusion and disappointment flooding him.
"As much as I want this, you need to get a bath and get ready for your meeting. You smell like a foot."
"A sexy foot?"
Anders chuckled. "Not quite, Love. Get a bath so we can get to the Champion business and onto better things."
Hawke leaned in to kiss the mage once more. "That sounds wonderful, but about us doing the Champion business…I was thinking that I should go alone. Elves are anything but respected here, and there are Templars everywhere. I'd feel better if I handled this without any of that getting in the way. And I'd like it if Isabela stayed near you, Fenris, and Orana in case anything does happen. I know I promised nothing would but-"
The blonde cut him off with a swift kiss. "Archer, I'm not a child that needs to be protected. I live with these risks every single day. We'll wait here while you have your meeting, and we will see you once you're done. We could always just pass the time with cards; I'm having a winning streak and I think I might get to where I won't have to owe that elf a copper."
"You need to win about a hundred more games for that to happen, Darling, but I believe in you." With a smile, the warrior let go of his lover and went into the adjoining washroom, complete with the most beautiful wash basin he'd ever seen alongside its own source of warm running water. I'm going to need that for the estate. Not the warm part, just the running. Can't have that mage living with me for completely free.
By the time Hawke was just about done with his bath, a pounding could be heard coming from the hallway door. Anders barely had time to leap up from his resting place on the large bed before the pounding seemed to grow more frantic, accompanied by grumbling. He opened the door cautiously to find four tall, muscular men. The largest glowered at him, a crowbar batting in his hand.